


The Wrath of A God Is A Terrible Thing

by MetalArmMagnets



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drabble, I guess pre slash, Slight Mention of Blood, more hopeful, not much at all but better be safe, not particularly happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4993813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetalArmMagnets/pseuds/MetalArmMagnets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire have a fight, Grantaire tries to deal with the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wrath of A God Is A Terrible Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InsertUserNameHerePlease](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertUserNameHerePlease/gifts).



He stares at his paint splattered hands in utter defeat. Tears mix with drying blood from the cuts on his hands. R was used to fighting, used to being hurt, but he was not expecting the violence that had exploded within Enjolras when R finally turned up after a three week break. R remembered the happiness he had been feeling at finally completing his final ten paintings and from the short stay with his family back home. He had walked into the musain with a smile on his face and a light heart when Enjolras rounded on him.

Now he sat on a bench by the Seine, wondering if this was truly his final mistake and whether it was even worth staying sober any longer. Not that Enjolras knew about that, why would he care? Their mighty Apollo did not care for mere mortals, especially not the cynical, loud mouthed drunks. (non-believers as far as the Gods could tell) Grantaire fell in love with the sun, and like Icarus his wings had been burned and he had fallen.

A shaky figure in red sat next to him on the bench, "Grantaire-" a lost expression replaced by resolve. A sudden arm thrown around his shoulders and a tear stained face pressed to his hair. A moment of breathless delight. An apology muffled by dark curls,

"I'm so sorry Grantaire."

It seemed that Apollo was willing to sacrifice his wings too.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey thanks for reading! This is actually my first Les Mis fic wow. I really should have been working on my other stories but I felt like filling in a prompt from my friend. I hope you enjoyed reading this drabble :)


End file.
